


Gasoline

by 6to8



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Gen, Other, Youth, gasoline, thoughtful stuff right there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:46:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6to8/pseuds/6to8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trevor couldn't help it. He always liked Gasoline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gasoline

**Author's Note:**

> Please bear with me. There are far better writers on here than me and I’m well aware of that but writing is just too much fun to just give up on it. (IF I actually find the time to write. I recently started again). So this is it: Some various parts from Trevor’s youth or what it could have been like. I wanted to throw in some bits when he signs up for the Air Force but I guess I might put that in some other story. So this is it. All taken and inspired from what little information we have about his childhood. Any kind of contructive critism is welcome.

It was a Saturday in autumn, somewhere in one of these huge malls you’ll find all over Canada. That kind of mall that just sells everything you could think of. Trevor had just been 7 years old to that time. He had been to a mall before, but never with his dad so this day was special to him. Special because it meant a lot if his father even cared about taking him out on a day trip left alone spend time with him. The whole time they strolled through the mall, passing store after store he made sure to keep silent and not ask for sweets or toys as he walked next to him. His father hated it when he was asking for something. He preferred Trevor when he was no bothering him at all.

Trevor had a hard time keeping up with him. He wanted to reach for his hand but he knew, his father would just get angry if he did. Trevor had never received any kind of affection from his father. Not a single peck on the cheek, not even a hug ever since his birth. His father often said that he didn’t want him to turn into a faggot if Trevor ever dared to ask. Trevor didn’t want to be a ‘faggot’ so he kept any kind of emotional outburst to himself.

Mr. Philips had never been the loving kind of father. He was more like the really angry, cold, strict kind of father. Covered in tattoos, bruises, scars and with unruly, greasy black hair that went up to his shoulders, always hidden under a hideous trucker cap. His eyes were mostly covered by sunglasses, even in winter. He would always wear a pair of biker boots and a beaten leather jacket. He was one of these guys you didn’t want to mess with at all. Not just because he would always carry a gun with himself. It had been pretty much the only thing his father had ever taught him. Trevor knew how to handle a gun before he had learned to read and write. His mother had complained. Only once though. Until his father’s fist had put her back into place. After that she never said anything when she spotted Trevor running around with a gun. Trevor didn’t understand her concerns. Why was she so worried about something that was meant to be there for their safety? A gun was only there to protect them from the evil men that lingered around outside their home every once in a while – at least that was what his father had taught him. He had seen his father shooting some of these men actually. “Some assholes deserve to be shot. Remember that, Trevor.” His dad had said, his clothes had been covered in blood as he sat down in front of the tv, not caring if Trevor was still standing right behind him, shocked and in a loss of words but somewhat oddly fascinated. His mother had just started to tear up and locked herself into the bathroom for hours. 

After a while Trevor had curled up next to the bathroom door; he had even knocked softly, assuring her that everything was alright. When he had been just close to fall asleep, his mother had come out eventually.  Trevor had been too naïve to understand why she had slapped him across the face on that day. He had run into his room and cried for hour’s straight, trying to find out what he had done wrong. He knew he had probably deserved it though. He made sure never to carry around a gun anymore when she was around. Even if he had to endure his father’s endless mocking then. Not that it mattered. He was hardly home anyway. Sometimes he disappeared for a week straight.

Mr. Philips was that kind of father that couldn’t be pictured as a father figure at all. Trevor did it anyway. Firstly because he had thought that children had to love their parents, no matter how horrible they were and secondly with not having any friends at all, he had no comparisons anyway. He hadn’t known what parents were supposed to be like. He’d only learn that a few years later.

“Where are we goin’ daddy?” he’d asked carefully. His dad hadn’t spoken a word to him since they’d gotten out of the car and into the mall. It looked like he was waiting for something but Trevor was too innocent, too young to find out about the real reason why he had brought him here at all.

As a grown man, he knew it had been childish innocence through and through. How could a child even suspect their dad to be that heartless? No, he couldn’t be blamed for not realizing to that time. He had been insecure. Compared to what he was now, it was hard to imagine that Trevor had been insecure once.

“Did I allow you to ask any questions?” his father said coldly, not even caring to look at the young boy next to his side. He just continued to look around the place, now roughly grabbing Trevor by the shoulders.  “I told you to hurry the fuck up.” Trevor clutched his teddy bear to his chest, biting his lower lip. They had already walked around for quite a while. He wanted to go home. He felt tired.

“Can we go home, dad?”

“Not now.” Mr. Philips continued to pull Trevor forwards until they reached the center of the mall. They stopped right away and took a seat on one of the benches and waited. For what Trevor didn’t know but he had been too intimidated to ask. He had just watched his father silently as he light up a cigarette, obviously not caring that a lot of people around them glared at him and left because they felt somewhat disturbed. Trevor was already quite tall for his age but he still had a hard time not to lose orientation in this huge building. A group of middle-aged woman passed them, chatting away carelessly as they carried quite a few shopping bags. Trevor hadn’t been able to hear what they were exactly talking about but he had caught one of the women smiling at him as they stopped in front of yet another of the hundreds of clothing and grocery stores they had in here.

“What a cute boy you got there!” she had said, coming closer. She must’ve been in her 40’s, short, blonde, curly hair and a little on the chubby side but not fat. Trevor immediately liked her. Her voice sounded friendly. And it also had been a while since someone had called him cute. Usually he would get different reactions from people, especially from the people in their hometown. Most people called him ‘weird’ and ‘ugly’. He shyly smiled back and looked down on the floor as he caught his father glaring at him. Of course, he had forgotten all about the ‘don’t talk to strangers.’ rule.

“Get lost, you fat cow.” Mr. Philips had snarled at the woman, not even looking at her. She looked at them baffled, her smile disappearing before she went back to her friends and mumbled something under her breath. Trevor knew it was probably not nice. He didn’t get his father sometimes. He always appeared to be in a bad mood.

“Listen, kid. I’m gonna meet a friend of mine in a few. I want you to stay here.” Mr. Philips mumbled, still smoking his cigarette. Trevor furrowed his brow, realizing his father had talked to him.

“Why can’t I come along and meet your friend?” he asked, full of childish curiosity.

“It’s adult business. You can’t come along.” Trevor knew if his father mentioned ‘adult business’ that he wasn’t allowed to ask any further questions. In that case it was better if he just obeyed. He had only tried once to keep on asking. It had given him quite a few bruises over the years. The last time he had been too curious and just asked away, he had nearly gotten his arm broken. It hurt a lot and since they were constantly out of money, Trevor wasn’t allowed to go see a doctor. He had quietly suffered through the pain.

Mr. Philips stood up. He had thrown his cigarette on the floor, stomping it out with his boot. He re-adjusted his sunglasses (he hardly took these of) and his trucker cap before he looked at Trevor. There was a crooked smile playing around his lips. It was weak and barely noticeable but it was there.

“Just be a good boy, Trevor.  Will you? Just stay where you are.” Trevor just nodded eagerly, watching as the common, slender frame of his father had walked away until he had disappeared in the crowd of people. He had been 7 years old. How was he supposed to know that this had been the last time he had ever seen his father?

He didn’t remember much from what had happened after his dad had left. He had tried to forget all about it, push it into the farest corner of his mind. It had been too traumatic. His heavy drug abuse had done a good job to help with that. Now there were just horrifying details that came back to haunt him every once in a while. He had been so scared and angry and helpless. People had tried to help him but he had just kept on running. He hadn’t wanted their help. He had just wanted his father back, wanted to understand what he had done wrong this time. Even when he finally crawled into bed on that night to cry himself to sleep, he had waited for him to come back home. It took him 2 years to realize he wouldn’t come back, that he was gone forever. Trevor knew he had lost a good part of his innocence and trust on that day. He’d thought he never get over his loss but that was until he had found out that sadness could be easily replaced with anger. He had to turn a few years older for that knowledge but he had finally understood.

From now on, Trevor had hated his father. Hated him for what he had put him through, hated him for leaving, hated him for being violent towards his mother and most of all for not being a good father at all.

Years passed. Trevor had now just been left with his beautiful, damaged flower of a mother and somehow they coped without his father. His mother’s behavior towards him had actually changed with his father not being around anymore. She seemed less scared, less repressed.  Trevor knew she had always done her best to care for him, so Trevor had never judged her for working in a strip club or for being a prostitute and he certainly never judged her when she lost it and hurt him in the process. It happened. For Trevor this was as close to a normal family life as he would probably ever get. Times were tough. They were still running short on money and there wasn’t much to do for a Canadian, high school dropout. He’d gone hunting on Mondays and Thursdays and on Fridays he would spend hours at the local flight operation downtown, just watching the planes arrive and depart on the runway in awe. It was a small business. It just had two beagles that shipped small loads across the country but it was good enough to leave a lasting impression on Trevor. Suddenly he knew that he wanted nothing more as to fly planes all day. He decided to sign up for the Air Force as soon as he was old enough and do something remotely good with his life. He had no other ideas and he certainly didn’t want anything else. A long time ago, even someone like Trevor had dreams and he figured if people would have let him, he wouldn’t have turned out that bad. He had been a kid with ambitions.

Highschool had always been too boring to keep someone like Trevor interested. There wasn’t a single teacher or pupil that didn’t despise him for his weird looking’s or unpredictable, violent outbursts. Trevor didn’t care much. He had always been someone with bigger plans in mind.  Most of the time he would skip classes anyway. The only class he had liked and attended on a pretty much voluntary basis was art class. Only as long as no one put pressure on him though and he’d learned that people would constantly put him under pressure. So while being actually quite talented with drawing, Trevor couldn’t draw if it was expected from him. And in Highschool someone always expected something from him. It had stressed him out and he was known for being prone to get anger outbursts if he got stressed out. Why the hell had people never left him the hell alone?

His art teacher, some 60 year old depressed housewife – had made the mistake to call him untalented once after he had refused to draw more ‘friendly’ things. Trevor’s temper had never been really well balanced so naturally he had grown angry. First he had really wanted to hurt her but he had always drawn the line at hurting woman, the images of his father beating up his mother still too vivid in his mind. He had settled for something – at least in his opinion – more harmless.  During art classes, he had just pulled his dick out right in front of her, telling her that if she wanted something nice and creative to be drawn, she could sure as hell just draw his dick. Trevor would never forget her face as she turned a deeper shade of red and tried hopelessly to cover her eyes before she threw him out of class, screaming like she had lost her goddamn mind. He’d been called to see his principal on the same day. That old fart who had been just a year away from retiring had asked him if he knew that he had actually committed a crime. He had called it sexual harassment. Trevor had just laughed it off and acted like he had never heard of that before. Of course he was well aware of what sexual harassment meant, he wasn’t an idiot, even if people liked to think that.  He didn’t think showing your dick to someone could be thrown into same bucket. Why should he have cared if that old, prude hag had felt harassed? Trevor was convinced she had never seen a dick before. No wonder she had been scared. Stupid bitch.

“Mr. Philips are you aware of the fact that this will get you banned?” Mr.Goodman had been on this school for a quite some time and he had also seen a lot of things he certainly didn’t believe to be happening at first but Trevor, from all of the kids he had taught in his career, was certainly the scariest, the most uncomfortable, badly-behaved,  deranged and weirdest of them all. It was his attitude, the way he dressed, the fact that he never seemed to give a flying shit about anything or anyone at all. He didn’t even try to fit in at all. He was a problem.

Trevor had just shrugged it off as he sat there on the chair in front of the principal’s desk, chewing annoyingly loud on his gum. Legs spread out, arms crossed over his chest to support his offensive behavior. He showed Mr.Goodman a cheeky grin.

“I don’t fucking care.” He’d let his tongue run over his lips in an obscene manner before he started to touch his junk inappropriately. “You can now either suck me off or shut your fucking mouth old man.” He had spat, watching in amusement as Mr.Goodman’s eyes went wide and how he clenched his fists in anger. The old man had been in a loss of words for whole minute until he had gotten a grip back on himself and thrown Trevor out of the office.

Needless to say, this had gotten him banned. He had never told his mum and just burned all the letters they received from school. Not that she would have cared much anyway. She would just ask him every once in a while if he behaved and he would lie to her and tell her that he did fine.

Trevor regretted every day he had lied to her and he had always hoped that his future career in the Air Force would earn him enough money to care for her. Only assuring himself that he didn’t have much of a choice back then eventually soothed his bad conscience. That and sniffing gasoline on a quite regular basis. It made him forget things when he was floating somewhere between consciousness and faint. Trevor had tried out several things before but he hadn’t been as mature as he had been later in his 40’s. He didn’t know how that kind of industry worked and it would take him another decade until he’d gotten into the whole drug selling and producing department. Before that it had just been fun most of the time. A kid messing around with substances.

When he turned 19, Trevor already had quite a history of setting things on fire. He couldn’t help it. He liked gasoline. He liked the smell of it and the damage it could cause.  For a weird Canadian kid with practically no income, it was also the cheapest and easiest way to get high. And Trevor loved to get high just as much as he liked setting things on fire. There was something about it that fascinated him.

To this day though he had just set insects, tiny animals and his homework on fire. Nothing too serious for his taste. It had been about time to take things to the next level. He was naturally curious and always up for experiments. He’d try out things other people gladly drew the line on. Obviously most of the things Trevor liked to do were either illegal or forbidden. Why waste a single opportunity if the world just had so much to offer for a young man? The forbidden stuff, Trevor thought, was always the stuff that brought the most fun. Life only got interesting if you took a risk every once in a while. People, he had figured, weren’t unlike animals. They would burn just as good. Only if you burned things down, it meant they were gone forever.  And there were plenty of things Trevor wanted to be gone forever.

There were quite a few things on his list. There was the mall his father had abandoned him at, the highschool, a liquor store downtown that refused to sell him alcohol and some houses of people he’d grown to have a special dislike for. It would take some time to strike all things on that list but Trevor sure had a lot of time to waste and he was eager to finish the list before he went to the Air Force.

He had driven down all the way to the city center. It had been a 2 hour drive. He certainly didn’t remember the mall being that far away but judging from the memories he had, this was the right one. He remembered the snow covered pine trees in front of the entrance and the red neon light that read ‘Prime City Mall’. He had parked his old SUV on one of the parking lots and impatiently watched as people went in and left again. Families, young married couples, elders and teenagers. Innocent people. They strolled over the parking lot in such a carefree and happy manner that it disgusted Trevor.  Good thing they didn’t know what was upon them or more specifically who was upon them.

Trevor threw one last look over to the oilcans that sat on the passenger seat of his old SUV and then looked at his watch. He still had a few minutes left to kill.

He turned up the volume of his old cassette player and leaned back in the driver seat. A vicious grin spread across his features as  Johnny Cash’s ‘Ring of Fire’ came on. He had almost forgotten about that one. It was an old mixtape that his father had once recorded and stored in his garage. Trevor had just recently stumbled over it. His dad might have been in asshole but his taste in music hadn’t been too bad. That had been pretty much the only good thing about him.

Highly amused by the sheer irony of this moment, Trevor started to whistle along to it.


End file.
